Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me, When I’m 77?

A scrum of greyhounds.

The holidays are supposed to be a time of happiness and a renewal of faith in the innate goodness of humanity.  I have to say that for us it was a mixed bag.  We got a call from someone (we’ll call him Mr. Rescuer) just before Christmas.  He had gotten our number from a friend of his who lives near us and knows we are involved with greyhounds.

The reason he was calling is because he had found a male greyhound and didn’t want to send him to the pound.  He was hoping we could help.  Mr. Rescuer said that he had watched the greyhound sleep in an open field for two nights prior to his taking it in.  A canvass of the houses in the neighborhood of the field turned up no one who was willing to admit to ownership.  For those of you who don’t know much about Maine, it’s pretty cold here in the winter.  Though we’ve been having a “warm spell,” that equates to days in the 40s and nights in the 20s-30s.   If you can’t conceive of that, try

sleeping in your refrigerator for a night with no clothes on.

After speaking with Mr. Rescuer, he said he had no problem keeping the lost greyhound until after Christmas.  The greyhound was warm and safe and being fed.   They had taken a shine to him.  After Christmas we arranged for the kids and I to go and pick up the hound.  We would transport him to the Maine Greyhound Placement Service where he would be identified and cared for. 

Things are always a little less scary with a friend.

We arrived on the appointed day and time to meet the wandering grey and got our first shock.  He was a sweet, sweet old grey.  He had cataracts and a white face.  When I was finally able to get a look at his ear tattoo, I discovered he was 11 years old.  He was also clearly underweight with bones and ribs poking out all over.  His nails looked like they hadn’t been tended to for some time.  None the less, he was a happy boy and had taken a liking to Mr. Rescuer and Mr. Rescuer’s father.  I think the liking was mutual but unfortunately Mr. Rescuer had an elderly cat and they did not feel they could disrupt the cat’s world by moving a canine into the house.   They were definitely sorry to see this loving baby leave.

But the greyhound didn’t balk at all about hopping up into my car with Blue and Bettina as company.  That was how Mr. Rescuer got him home.  He opened his truck door and invited the wayward grey to jump in, which he did.  As we were driving to MGPS, Blue, Bettina and our guest got comfortable with each other and soon were curled into one big pile with three heads and three tails.  The folks at MGPS were awaiting us when we arrived. 

And if 1 friend is good, then 2 friends are better!

The first thing they did was weigh this poor old fellow.  He weighed in at only 60 pounds.  He was slightly smaller than Blue but Blue weighs in at 75 lbs and I keep him on the thin side.  This old guy should have been somewhere between 70-75 lbs.  He was at least 10 lbs lighter than he should have been.  On a greyhound that 10 lbs makes a big difference.

He got his nails clipped and a thorough going over by the medical staff.  In the meantime others checked his ear tattoos and his microchip.  They discovered that he had originally been an MGPS hound.  His name was Winslow and indeed when he was addressed as such, he clearly knew who we were talking about.  Once he was released from his medical check he made a beeline straight to the comfy fluffy bed in the corner of the room.  You could almost hear him groan as he settled

Winslow gets checked over by everyone, including Cider.

himself into the softness.

Winslow held court from the bed, not moving from it during the time I was still at MGPS.   We learned that not only was Winslow 11 years old, he had raced in Raynham MA and had first been adopted in 2007.  Blue is 11 years old and HE raced at Raynham as well (probably they raced there at the same time).  I adopted my Big Poppy in 2007.  The parallels between this poor skinny neglected hound and my own best boy were so striking.  Since I cannot ever conceive of doing such a thing to any hound in my care let alone an 11 year old who had been nothing but loving, I felt pretty sick to my stomach that anyone else would. 

I imagined Blue out in that field.  My Blue who loves and asks for nothing more than a soft place to lie down and a nice big dinner and some treats.  The first thing Blue does in any new place is greet all the people and then find the softest place available to lie down.  Blue wears a light fleece coat in the

A soft place for old bones.

house in the winter and a coat and snood over that when he goes outside because his old bones get cold so much easier than a younger hound.  He has memory foam bedding to make sure he’s comfortable.  He has an electric blanket in his crate to make sure he stays nice and warm at night.  Any greyhound who reaches the venerable age of 11 deserves to be pampered and loved an extra measure.

How could someone be so cruel and so heartless to put any dog out like that,  let alone one who is more vulnerable because of his breed and age? 

We got a call from MGPS later that day after we had returned home.  They let us know that they had tracked down and spoken with the original adopters and pieced together a story of divorce and the handing off of Winslow to someone else who clearly didn’t care for the dog.  Winslow will stay at MGPS where he’ll be fattened up and spoiled for awhile and then put up for adoption. 

If there is any sort of god, Winslow will spend his last years in a loving home being spoiled rotten.  Good things will come to Mr. Rescuer and his father for saving Winslow from a worse fate.  And there is a special corner of hell reserved for whoever turned that greyhound out into that freezing field.

Post Script:  There has been more contact with the person who took Winslow after the divorce.  He says that Winslow escaped during a visit from the UPS man.  He has offered to pay treatment and dental costs and any other costs to have him returned.  I have some personal doubts about how hard anyone searched for Winslow given at least 2 days having elapsed since his escape and 5 more days elapsing while in the care of Mr. Rescuer and no posters up as well as his being so underweight and teeth and nails neglected.  But it certainly can happen that a moments inattention can result in something terrible like this happening.  I hope for Winslow's sake, and for the sake of my faith in humanity that this is all true and it has a happy ending.  

Anda One, Anda Two, Anda Three?

This past weekend the kids and I enjoyed ourselves at the Maine Greyhound Placement Service’s annual Open House. This year they are celebrating their 20th anniversary. As we usually do, we spent a lot of money, brought home new collars, ate our fair share of grilled meat and we even won one of the raffle prizes.

I happened to be speaking with Scott Bruns who founded MGPS. He has a wonderful grey named Cider. 


This is Cider visiting our friend Pat

This handsome fawn boy is ginormous. He is almost as big as a Great Dane. And he is utterly bonded to Scott. If Scott leaves Cider’s sight for even 30 seconds, it is a huge party when Scott comes back. Cider celebrates as if Scott had been gone for years.

When Cider arrived at MGPS, he was all the talk amongst volunteers. It was thus that he came to my attention. Carol, Blue and Bettina’s Auntie and our friend, volunteers at MGPS. From time to time she lets me know about special greys that arrive at the center. She knows my deep dark secret. That I long for a third greyhound. I’ve been thinking about what life might be like if we added a third greyhound to our family for years.

There always seems to be a very good reason why I shouldn’t do it. At first my car was so tiny we could barely fit two greyhounds in the back. Then that car caught on fire and we got a great new greyhound mobile (Honda Element, best dog car ever). Plenty of room for a third and possibly even a fourth greyhound in there.



Blue joins in the group roo

 Then Girly Girl got ill and our savings was wiped out. Money was tight. The price of everything was going up but due to the economy, no ones wages were. Lately those worries have eased a bit and I’ve actually started to rebuild some savings even though we’re a long way from recovering from Girly Girl’s medical bills. I still live in fear that Blue or Bettina gets that diagnosis.

Still Cider was pretty special so Carol told me about him. I obsessed over Mr. Cider for a number of weeks. I had, against all good sense decided to call and make an appointment to see him. The next day I found out that Scott had adopted him. Cider is so clearly happy in his life with Scott; it’s hard to be sad about that missed opportunity.

I shared that story with Scott and he asked if I had been thinking about adding a third greyhound. He told me about a sweet female who was currently onsite but not in the general adoption population currently. She was earmarked to go to someone who already owned or had owned greyhounds. My stomach knotted up.


Blue has a spa treatment at Open House

  My heart wanted a third hound. I always thought it would be another big dopey boy but a loving little female would be good to. There were still some obstacles but this was probably the best time there ever had been for adding a third baby. I asked Scott if I could see her when he had a moment.

Not long after that, he was placing a leash in my hand and I was walking this little peanut. She was just out of the kennel so she was wound up a bit. And she was overwhelmed by all the people, noise and commotion of the Open House. I took her for a little walk outside and away from the crowd. She wanted to check everything out. But for a few moments she’d come and bury her head into my chest for a snuggle. Or she’d lean against me when something frightened her. We walked over to the ex-pen under the shade of the trees to say hi to Blue and Bettina. Oddly, neither Blue, nor Bettina got up from their prone position to greet a new greyhound. They lay there looking at me and then at her. No wagging tails, no baring of teeth, no reaction what-so-ever.

We walked around a little more and I sat on the grass next to her. I asked her flat out if she was meant to come home with me.  This is a question I've asked each greyhound who joined my famiy.  I wasn’t sure in my own heart. I didn’t want to preclude something just because I was a little worried about whether or not I should get a third hound.  I have never had a clearer answer. I heard her in my head as though she were speaking to me in English. “You are not my person.”

I am pretty sure I have the cutest greyhounds ever, but maybe
two are good for the time being.

I walked her around a little more. I asked her again. I got the same reply. With a heavy heart I brought her back to Scott. Now did I really get a message from this greyhound? I don’t discount the possibility. But it also may have been a message from my brain speaking to me in the guise of a little greyhound. Or perhaps they were both speaking to me.

The end result was the same. We enjoyed the Open House. We won a new dog bed! My heart still has its little secret wish. Given how special the little female grey was, I have no doubt she will shortly find a great home with people who know and love greyhounds already. And someday, maybe someday, Carol will let me know about a great new arrival at the kennel who will tell me just as clearly that I AM his (her?) person.